Shadows and Stripes
by CarsCars2Fanatic
Summary: This is the first piece of poetry I'm uploading to FF, it concerns Foxy. Yes, this is the kind of thing I do when I'm in a depressed mood. Every poem that comes out is like this one, very dark, so if you like this, you'll love my other ones. That's all I'm gonna say, so Go ahead and read! I don't own Sheriff, Red, Doc, or Fillmore, or the idea of Cars coming to life.


They called her insane and threw her into a damp, dark cell. They told her that cars couldn't talk, and never would. They told her that they were stripping her of her identity and going to form her into a 'normal' person.

Now, she did nothing but remain huddled in the darkest corner of her jail cell, the bars casting striped shadows across her deathly thin form. She refused to eat anything they offered, telling them that she would when they gave her back her identity.

They had obviously refused, saying that the house key attached to her collar was a way that she would 'hurt herself'. She had asked them why they didn't just take the key off the collar, and they had replied that it was evidence.

She was awake the night it happened, as she always was. She couldn't sleep in the cold cell, and so resorted to huddling in the corner, staring blankly out her barred window into the midnight sky, looking up at the moon and stars as she gently hit her head against the wall repeatedly, a rhythmic quality lulling her into a trance.

Without a sound, two spots of light appeared, glowing a pale yellow in the dark. They disappeared, then reappeared a moment later. Blinking. The whispering noise of tires on the cement floor. The quiet squeaking of brakes. The low purr of an engine.

All these sounds registered to Foxy as being familiar, and she didn't move from her position in the pitch-black cell. "I thought you were never going to show up." Her voice was so low; it barely carried across the cell. "There were some things that came up." The car's voice was also low, not wanting to attract attention to the cell.

"Shadow." "Yes, Foxy." "Are we going home?" "We can if you'd like. First, we'll need to stop at your old home. I have a feeling there are a few things you want to get." Foxy was silent, but the sounds of movement told the matte black Mazda Miata that Foxy was rising from the floor.

"Why do we need to go there? I never want to go back there again." "It is necessary." Foxy moved towards Shadow, and sat down on her hood. "First we need to get my collar." "Where is it?" "It's with the Captain. He should be in his office." "I'll be back." With that, Shadow was no more, and Foxy was left alone in the dark cell.

She sat back down on the ground, staring outside at the bright moon. After what seemed like a lifetime, Shadow returned and the quiet jingling of dog tags could be heard, although they were quickly stifled. "Here." Foxy felt something land in her palm, and her hand closed around it, feeling the spikes that ran around the collar. She quickly placed the collar on, and sighed.

"Thanks, Shadow." "Let's get going. We've got a lot of work to do." Foxy stood up, then sat down on Shadow's hood. With the screeching of tires and roaring of an engine, the two were hurtling towards the wall, the sounds echoing crazily throughout the prison.

Just as they were about to hit the wall, they vanished in a flash of brilliant white light. The officers and guards on duty rushed towards her cell, keys jangling. They shone their flashlights into her cell, but didn't see her. She was just gone.

They did indeed stop at her old home, where she told Shadow that there was nothing she needed. "My superiors required it of me. I'm sorry." "It's all right, Shadow. Let's just go to my real home, please." "Very well."

In another flash of light, she was standing out in the desert under the nighttime sky, the moon and stars bright above her. She set out through the desert, and soon reached a different surface.

At her bare, numb, cold feet was a well-worn road, leading off into seemingly nowhere. To Foxy though, it was definitely somewhere. It was home.

She began the slow journey back to the ones she cared about the most, her thoughts of them the only thing keeping her sane throughout her imprisonment in her universe. She walked alone underneath the star-littered sky, for Shadow was now nothing more than what her name implied. A shadow.

Foxy gazed up at the skies as she walked, the millions of tiny pinpricks capturing her interest. She knew that since it was three hours earlier here, most of the ones she cared for would still be awake, although she only cared about one in particular.

Three hours later, her feet dragging but some of the old fire returning to her eyes, she arrived at the place that started her home. The darkened billboard, where she knew one was sleeping. She passed by quietly, and looked back over her shoulder. There he was, settled low to the ground; his eyes shut tightly, his snoring the only sound in the still night air.

Foxy didn't stop to teasingly wake him up, instead just continued onwards. Soon, she passed by the impound lot, and shuddered. It was too much like the place she had come from for her comfort. Then the road ahead began to get brighter. She looked into the distance, and her feet slowed as she saw the lights of her home.

Suddenly, she felt as though she couldn't go on, and stopped. She sank to the hard surface of the road, the lights growing farther away. She outstretched a hand to try to stop them, but it was no use. It seemed like the lights were increasing their speed until they were no more than a pinprick of light.

She fainted then, her thin form lying limply in the deserted road like a dead animal. Presently, a set of headlights found themselves drawn to her limp form. There was a gasp, then the sound of an engine accelerating. Her outstretched hand was taken notice of, then a set of blue eyes looked from her form to the lights. They looked down at her again, and she was lifted off the ground. The owner of the icy-blue eyes took her home, knowing that it was where she would want to be.

After a blacked-out period, Foxy heard the dim sounds of voices. She struggled to recognize them, but they faded away before she could. They came back again, and Foxy instantly recognized one of them. It was the voice she had heard all throughout her childhood, the voice that she wanted to hear. She heard another, more Southern voice, and faintly remembered whom it belonged to.

She cracked first one eye, then the other, open. The voices faded, and she blinked twice. She was all alone. There was nobody in the room with her, which was maddeningly white and devoid of anything. She scuttled into a corner, then sat, staring out at the rest of the room blankly. Eventually, she began hitting her head against the wall as she had done in her cell, over and over, rocking backwards and forth, the whiteness of the room driving her to insanity.

She didn't know what had happened or how long she had sat there, but the door on the opposite side of the room opened. Something she didn't recognize entered the room, but she quickly discovered that it was part of something much larger: a car.

The bright redness of the vehicle contrasted sharply with the expressionless white walls of the room and still Foxy did nothing. The car looked down at her, happily at first, then with worry because of her blank, unwavering stare. She blinked once, but continued hitting her head against the wall. She watched the car leave the room, leaving only the solitary whiteness behind and her expressionless head-hitting.

One of the voices she had heard drew closer, and she blinked again, but didn't rise. This time, a hood, as black as night, entered the room, chrome accentuating the front bumper. The same pair of icy-blue eyes that had found her form once before found it again, watching as her head hit the wall to her right with maddening repetition. The owner of the eyes spoke softly, as though trying not to frighten her.

She responded by blankly watching the eyes, continuing to hit her head against the wall. This pair of eyes took in her bedraggled, pathetic, near-death appearance, and the expression became worried as it found her multiple injuries. Soon, these eyes too left, and Foxy was alone once more.

She heard voices talking, and became absorbed into her subconscious mind, thinking that the voices were the voices of the guards that walked back and forth in front of her cell by day and stood on either side of it by night. She caught some of what they were saying, and thought that the owners of the voices were concerned.

The same pair of eyes returned, only to be joined by a second pair, these ones darker. The last pair to join them were half-hidden and a deep chocolate brown. The brown pair approached her and their owner was speaking to her now. She didn't, couldn't reply, not after the things the guards had done to her, and she watched helplessly, her own eyes begging for assistance.

The owner of the darker blue eyes was beckoning to her now, and she obediently rose from the floor, then took a few steps towards them. The owner of the brown eyes reached up and hugged her, and just like that, it seemed like a magic spell had been broken. She looked around at the three, and knew that she was where she wanted to be. Home.

_ Home ist mehr als ein Ort des Lebens, es ist ein Beschützer von Leere und Eisenstangen. _

(Home is more than a place of living, it is a protector from emptiness and iron bars.)

**What did you all think of my poem? I know it's long, but that's just the way I type when I'm depressed. And yes, that quote above is in German. :) I figured it would be fitting, since I'm mainly German. You know what that means? I'm the same kind of person as Zundapp. *fangirl squeal* Anyways, I just got my internet back, so that's why it looks as though I haven't been online, even though I've been replying to your reviews through the reviews section. :) Catch ya on Friday for FORD(Finding Our Read Dad spells Ford, yay!) Then on Saturday fro NEIWICUTB! Btw, Read, Review, and Don't Steal, please? Thank you very much! See ya soon, Liz**


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